


Next of Kin

by suchanadorer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cage!Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer, Michael, Sam and Adam in the cage.</p><p>Someone's getting tortured and someone's torturing, but it's not what you think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Lucifer strains against the bindings of his cage, screaming so loudly that lightning rides the clouds, chasing after the retreating angel.

_Castiel, wait._

_Come back._

_You left a piece of him behind._


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had described Hell to Sam on exactly one occasion. Ruby had made mention of it more often than that, but never any details beyond what everyone expected: hot, painful, full of fire and screaming and torture. There was always blood and filth, always the stink of flesh and the snap of flames.

In this respect, the cage fails to meet his expectations entirely.

It’s perfectly clean, with bright white walls, floor and ceiling. There’s no visible light source, but it’s still bright and harsh enough that Sam has to shield his eyes and then squint as he takes in his surroundings. He’s lying on a cold tile floor beside a stainless steel examination chair, and there are steel cabinets against the far wall of the room.

Sam gets his legs under him and grabs at a cart beside the chair as he attempts to pull himself up from the floor. He succeeds only in pulling the cart off-balance, though, and reels backwards as scalpels, clamps, and other, less familiar instruments spill off onto the floor.

He braces for impact but it never comes. Instead, arms hook under his shoulders and lift him back up onto his feet. The tools are back on the cart, arranged neatly on top of a blue protective paper.

Even though Sam is now steady on his feet there is still a hand resting tentatively on his back, between his shoulder blades. The touch is cautious, as if whoever it is doesn’t want to stop touching despite it being unnecessary now. Sam feels worry run up and down his spine, but it’s worry for him and about him, a feeling not his own.

Sam steps away from the touch and turns to face his savior. Lucifer folds his hands together and lets them hang down in front of his stomach. He bows his head slightly so that he’s looking up at Sam, making him look almost shy. He looks like Nick again, dressed in the same faded green work shirt and jeans, the same unshaven jawline and blue eyes so much kinder than Sam expects.

What’s not the same are the wings behind Lucifer. They’re huge, even folded away behind his back. They may have been white in another lifetime, but now they are dingy and grayed, black in places. There are feathers out of place, clumped together with something dark and dried. Lucifer rolls his shoulders and shifts uncomfortably under Sam’s scrutiny, but when Sam looks him in the eye he holds his gaze.

Sam backs away from him, stopping only when his back hits the chair behind him. He fumbles blindly at the cart next to him, picking up a large, serrated knife and wielding it in front of him. He raises it and shifts slightly, scanning the walls for an exit. Lucifer takes a tentative step towards him with his hands raised, palms out.

“Is this Hell?” Sam asks, his eyes flitting nervously from Lucifer to the steel double doors over his shoulder.

“This is my cage,” Lucifer replies simply, gesturing widely. “I do like what you’ve done with the place, Sam.”

“What do you mean what _I've_ done?” Sam’s brows are furrowed in confusion. He edges away from the chair towards the left, making a wide circle around Lucifer towards the door. 

Lucifer moves with him, keeping eye contact with Sam but not making any attempt to get closer to him. “This is made to your specifications,” he says. “I never even got pick out curtains, but I guess this is what comes from having one of you in here with me.”

Sam nods absentmindedly. “Why is it a hospital?”

“You tell me, Sam. This is your idea of Hell, apparently.” Lucifer has reached the cart, and he runs a hand over the instruments on the tray. He picks up a scalpel and considers it for a moment, a look of disgust forming on his face. He draws his thumb across the blade and frowns at the blood that blooms there. He sighs and places it back on the tray, sticking the bleeding pad of his thumb into his mouth.

Sam glances back over his shoulder. The double doors are directly behind him now. He keeps the knife raised and moves towards them, keeping an eye on Lucifer as he goes.

“Sam, we have to stick together in here,” Lucifer says, starting after him.

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Right. I’m in Hell, in your cage, and you think I’m going to hang around here keeping you company?”

In an instant Lucifer is gone from Sam’s field of vision. He turns to leave, only to find the angel blocking the doors, wings spread wide enough to make it impossible for Sam to get to them.

“You gotta listen to me, kiddo. Hear me out.” Lucifer’s voice is plaintive, and that’s enough to make Sam hesitate. “I can’t keep you here, but I’m not the one you should be scared of.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. Not scared of Satan when I’m in Hell.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Sam. There is danger here, but I’m not it. Not for you.” There is concern on Lucifer’s face. Sam lowers his knife and Lucifer relaxes, wincing as he pulls his wings in closer to his body. “We don’t have a lot of time before Michael finds us. We have to try to hide. I think I can-“

In the same instant that he reaches for Sam, Michael appears behind them in the center of the room. He’s still wearing Adam, but now he too has wings. His are the brilliant, shining white Sam has always imagined. Sam only has a moment to enjoy them before Michael snaps his fingers and he explodes in a million fragments of bone and flesh. 

The last thing he hears is Lucifer screaming his name.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam doesn’t want to open his eyes. Every part of his body is protesting in a dull, feverish ache, and his throat is tight and dry.

As if on cue, water drips onto his lips. He opens his mouth, sighing as the liquid runs down his tongue. He swallows and coughs. A hand presses gently on his shoulder, the thumb rubbing lightly against the side of his neck. He leans into the touch, grateful for the cool skin and sense of peace that seems to radiate from the touch.

“More water,” he croaks, turning his head towards the hand.

“You’ll get sick if I give you too much,” a voice answers.

_That voice._

Sam opens his eyes and tries to bat away Lucifer’s hand, but he’s too weak. He’s sitting in the examination chair he’d seen earlier, but now it’s reclined all the way back. He tries to fight his way to sitting, but Lucifer forces him down, both hands pressing against his chest.

“You need to rest,” Lucifer says, leaning over to look at Sam’s face. He has a black eye and a split lip. His tongue flicks out to lick at the blood dried on his lower lip when he sees Sam looking. “Michael won’t be back for a while.”

Sam gives up struggling and relaxes against the steel chair again. He takes several deep breaths, squeezing his eyes closed. Lucifer’s hand is still resting on his skin, still sending out a constant signal of calm that rounds off and dampens Sam’s panic.

“What happened?” Sam asks.

“My brother.” Lucifer’s hand curls into his a fist and he pulls it away, but his fury lingers under Sam’s skin like a burn. “He did the same thing to you that I did to Castiel at the cemetery.” There is remorse in Lucifer’s voice. 

Sam forces his eyes open, taking in the curve of Lucifer’s wings. He’s facing away from Sam now, his head lowered and his wings wrapped around him.

“It must have hurt you to see that happen to your friend. I didn’t want that for you, Sam.”

“Right. So, if _Michael_ blew me up, then how am I here?” Sam says, sarcasm lacing his words. Lucifer hisses in a breath at Sam’s choice of words and the skepticism in his voice.

“Nothing gets out of the cage. I found all the pieces of you and put you back together.”

Sam swings his legs over the side of the chair and pulls himself up, a decision he immediately regrets as he pitches forward, the room stubbornly refusing to right itself in his vision. Lucifer is there immediately, one hand on Sam’s neck and the other on his back, easing him up into a sit. Concern shoots through Sam, a line of emotion connected to the points where Lucifer is touching him.

“Are you worried about me?” he says, slowly turning his head to look up at Lucifer, who opens his mouth only to close it again. “You are. That’s sick! How can I feel that?”

Lucifer leans away from him, removing one hand and leaving only his fingertips resting against Sam’s back to balance him. He sighs and draws his other hand over his face, stopping to pick at the cracked skin of his lower lip before he speaks.

“You said yes to me, and now we’re connected. That connection still works down here.”

Sam hops down from the chair, using it as support until his legs stop shaking. He looks at Lucifer, who is watching him warily. “Can I feel everything you feel?”  
Lucifer nods once and Sam’s face twists into a grimace. “And you feel everything I feel.”

At that Lucifer shakes his head. “No, you’re too strong for that. You don’t want me to, so I can’t. As it is I have to actually touch you for it to work. If I were still inside you that barrier wouldn’t exist.”

“Then how come we’re two people again?” Sam asks, looking down at himself. He’s wearing the same jacket, checked shirt and jeans he’d had on at the cemetery. His clothes are rumpled but whole and clean, no trace of the blood from Michael’s attack earlier.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable that way, though it would be easier for me to protect you if we were together.”

“And you chose to look like Nick again?”

“I didn’t think you’d take kindly to me turning up in Hell looking like your girlfriend. I can if you want.”

“Yeah, no, this is definitely better.” Sam takes a step forward, then another. His legs are strong again, so he sets off towards the doors. Lucifer follows.

“Where are you going, Sam?” he calls after him.

“As far away from you as I can get. Maybe Michael can help me.”

“Michael? I just told you he destroyed you and you want to go find him?”

“You expect me to believe that? This is Hell and you’re the devil. If you think I’m hanging around with you then you’re crazy.” And with that he backs through the double doors, turns, and runs.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam has no idea how much time has passed when he wakes up. This time it’s dark and cold and the ground underneath him is uneven. His head is pounding and his skin is tight and sore in places. He groans and pulls himself up to a sit. A wave of nausea rolls through him and he lowers his head between his knees, taking deep breaths. A hand rubs circles on his back as he dry heaves.

“What the hell happened?” Sam finally asks, running a hand over his face. 

“What do you remember?”

“I ran from Lucifer, and there was this light, and then-“ Sam stiffens and looks down at his body. "Lucifer." His shirt and the t-shirt under it are slashed open, the edges of the cuts red and crusty. He runs a hand over his stomach but he’s unhurt. There is a hand on the nape of his neck seeping forgiveness into his skin, and he hears Lucifer sigh.

“Michael found you, and he tortured you. I got there as soon as I could.”

Sam pulls away and struggles to stand. Lucifer snakes one arm around Sam’s waist and helps him to his feet, taking most of Sam’s weight as the bigger man slouches against him. Sam tries to pull away again, then thinks better of it. He drapes one arm reluctantly over Lucifer’s shoulders; the other is curled against his own chest.

Lucifer starts walking, taking small steps so that Sam can keep up with him. “You should stop trying to run from me,” he says, the reprimand gentle, more informing than angry. “Even without our connection, this was still my cage for a long time before you got here. I will always find you.” He shifts, pulling Sam somewhat more upright. “I told you if you died, I’d bring you back. Do you think you can walk on your own?”

Sam pushes himself away from Lucifer but doesn’t resist the hand that lands on his chest to steady him. He feels a pang of loss for the sense of security he felt when Lucifer was holding him up and shivers at the implication. Even here Lucifer is cold, his touch giving Sam goosebumps through his t-shirt.

“You brought me back? Again?” he asks, his voice weak and unsteady. Lucifer nods, his eyes scanning Sam’s face. “Why?”

“You’re my vessel, Sam. I will protect you anywhere, even here. Especially here.” 

His expression is open and concerned. There are dark circles under his eyes and a scratch along the side of his neck that Sam doesn’t remember seeing before. It makes something tighten in Sam’s chest, the idea that Lucifer is worried about him, cares about him.

Sam leans away from him and takes in his surroundings. They’re in a forest with huge trees, branches spread thick above them. It’s night, but even if it were day there would be almost no light reaching the ground. The soil is rocky and barren but for a coating of moss on some of the stones.

“Where are we now?” Sam asks as they start forward again. It’s dark and the forest floor is unpredictable, so their progress is slow.

“I don’t know. Like I said, you’re the one setting the scene here, not me.” 

Lucifer is never far from him with constant small touches to his side or his arm to help him keep his balance. Sam stares straight ahead so he doesn’t have to see the look on Lucifer’s face.

He has no idea how long they’ve been walking. It’s still dark and the forest is unchanging around them, the same backdrop of trees and mist. It’s utterly silent except for the crack of twigs and the crunch of their footsteps.

“What did it look like when you were here the first time?” Sam asks.

Lucifer stops and is silent behind him, so Sam turns back to face him. There is darkness in Lucifer’s eyes and his face is stony and sad all at once. For the first time Sam sees the blood streaked on his clothes, too.

A muscle twitches in Lucifer’s jaw. He swallows, then looks straight at Sam, into him. “There was nothing here last time. It was dark and it was empty. I was cut off from the light of my father’s creation and that was my hell for a long time.”

“What changed it?”

“I gave Eve an apple and a choice.” Lucifer’s eyes fall closed and he is silent.

Sam wonders what he’s feeling and is immediately awash with bitterness and grief, as well as the remnants of fiery pride. Lucifer meets his gaze before pushing past him to start their wandering again. Neither of them acknowledges the exchange.

“Where are we going?” Sam asks, pausing to look around them, searching for anything that might indicate which way they should be heading.

Lucifer shrugs. “We just have to keep moving, Sam. Michael will find you again and he will destroy you again, or worse.”

A light appears in the distance, filtering through the trees. Sam nods towards it and they change direction, walking towards it.

“What do you mean, or worse? What could be worse than my destruction?”

“Sam, this is Hell. Imagine the worst torture possible, then imagine something twice as bad. That is what awaits you if Michael takes you from me here.” Lucifer’s voice is pinched. He’s scanning the trees in front of them. The light is growing rapidly, taking on an orange tone. Lucifer stops suddenly and turns in front of Sam to block his path, wings spread as wide as possible. His eyes are panicked as he looks at Sam.

“Michael,” Sam whispers before his face contorts in pain. A drop of blood runs down from his nose over his upper lip. He doesn’t even flinch when Lucifer wipes it away with his thumb.

Sam cries out and doubles over, his knees hitting the ground hard. Lucifer crouches down with him. Back over his shoulder the forest has erupted into flame, the heat of it licking at his back. He pulls his wings in and wraps them around their bodies, shielding Sam from the embers and ashes that fly around them as the wind picks up.

Lucifer tilts Sam’s head up, holding his chin gingerly. He’s glassy-eyed and panting, and blood runs freely down into his mouth. Sam licks at it, his tongue sliding over cracked, chapped lips. Lucifer moves closer to him, letting Sam rest his head on his shoulder.

“You can’t have him!” Lucifer shouts into the storm. “We’re on my turf now, brother, and I’ve had nothing but time to perfect my technique down here.”

He looks up, beyond Sam, and sees Michael standing in the flames. He’s calm and smiling as he extends one hand in front of him and makes a fist. Sam screams so loudly it vibrates in Lucifer’s chest, and Sam digs his fingers into Lucifer’s arm.

“Not this time, Michael.” Lucifer flaps his wings once and they’re gone.

Sam slumps against him, unconscious. Lucifer sits back and takes his weight, letting Sam’s body rest against his chest, one arm draped over his thigh. Lucifer pushes Sam’s hair back off his forehead and presses his lips to the blistered skin there. It is utterly dark around them.

“Wake up, Sammy. Come on, kiddo,” Lucifer murmurs as shapes start to form around them. There is light, a thick, red tone that pulses. Shadows form and shift and Lucifer waits, gently rocking Sam and begging him to wake up.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam is standing in front of Lucifer in the house where the hellhounds killed Dean. As soon as Sam opens his eyes Michael is behind him, pulling and wrenching until Sam’s skin splits open under his clothes in jagged gashes. Sam screams and Lucifer screams and Michael never breaks eye contact with his brother, not even to blink, until he snaps Sam’s neck with a flick of his wrist.


	6. Chapter 6

The concrete floor is damp and gritty under Sam’s hands when he wakes up.

“I should stop asking where we are, shouldn’t I?” he says, blinking blearily up at the corrugated steel roof of the warehouse.

Lucifer’s face appears in his field of vision upside-down, and he actually smiles when Sam’s attention focuses on him. His face is covered with angry sores, broken blisters like he had just before he left Nick for dead on the floor of an old theater. Sam tries to scramble away but Lucifer’s arm is heavy and tight around his chest, giving off a feeling of safety and protection. He pushes again and Lucifer relents with a quiet gasp.

“You’re angry with me, Sam. Why?”

Sam struggles to his feet and steps away, eyes wide and shining as Lucifer straightens slowly, watching him with a guarded expression.

“Is this what it’s going to be like, forever?”

“Until Michael kills me or we get out, yes.” Lucifer rubs at his temple then looks at his fingers as if he expects to see blood. Indeed, there is more blood on his clothes now, and the knees of his jeans are dark with grime. There is a dark bruise running across his throat, disappearing behind the collar of his shirt.

“You know,” Sam says, giving a flat, humorless laugh, “you keep talking about Michael but I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He still looks like Adam. He hasn’t released his vessel.”

“I haven’t seen Adam, either,” Sam replies slowly.

“Yes, you have.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“But you know they’re here,” Lucifer says cautiously. “You pulled them down with us in a spectacularly stupid move.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that between you and him, Michael is the one torturing me?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, but still looks worried. “Did I ever hurt you, Sam? Did I ever hurt anyone you care about?”

“You threw Dean into a tree!” Sam rounds on him, shouting.

Lucifer clucks his tongue and nods. “Yes. Yes I did, after he shot me in the head with the intention of killing me. I don’t expect you to forgive me for it, but maybe you can see how I could justify my reaction?” Sam frowns and eventually gives Lucifer a nod-shrug. “What did you do to justify Zachariah taking your lungs away?” Lucifer continues in the same conversational tone. Sam opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again. He narrows his eyes at Lucifer, really listening now. “Had I been there, by the way, I would’ve killed him for that. Think, Sam! Michael sent Zachariah, and Zachariah sent Castiel, Uriel, Anna.” He holds up a hand, counting off the angels on his fingers. “Even Castiel wound up beating your brother half to death before the end. My brethren can be cruel and violent in their righteousness, but I’ve never hurt you. Why would that be different now that we’re here?”

He steps forward and wraps his hand around Sam’s wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. Sam moves to pull away but stops when he feels Lucifer’s sadness and his desire to make Sam understand. His anger subsides and with it he feels something lighter come from Lucifer.

It’s hope, and something sweeter as well, something Sam’s not sure he wants to put a name to.

“I told you I would never lie to you, and now I can’t. I can’t camouflage this.” He lets go and Sam yanks his arm away, looking suspiciously at his wrist. “I don’t know how else to make you trust me,” Lucifer murmurs.

“At the cemetery,” Sam says, remembering. “I saw what you tried to do. With Michael. You would’ve given up your mission to destroy humanity if you could get him to go with you.”

“And he chose destruction,” Lucifer retorts, but there is more pain than anger in his voice. “Think of that the next time you run from me to him for protection.”

The wind picks up suddenly outside the warehouse. The walls and roof are flimsy corrugated steel, and they flap and bang loudly. There is a screech and one of the panels snaps off and falls. Lucifer pushes Sam out of the way and falls to his knees, bringing his wings up to take the brunt of the blow. The metal slides down his back, gouging a deep gash into his left wing. Lucifer cries out and throws the panel off.

Another panel loosens and plummets towards them, and this time Lucifer is powerless to stop it. Sam is laying where he fell when Lucifer pushed him out of the way, and the sharp steels lands on its edge, acting as a guillotine to cut Sam clean in two at the waist.

Lucifer stumbles forward and grabs at the metal, a bellow of rage escaping him as he tosses it aside and kneels beside Sam.

“Try to convince him that one was my fault,” Michael says from the doorway.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam wakes with a start, hissing as he rolls onto his side and curls into the fetal position.

“My stomach,” he groans, panting through the pain.

Lucifer sits down behind him and lays a hand on the back of his neck. Sam presses back into the cool contact and gratefully accepts the sensation of calm safety that floods into him.

“You pushed me right under that fucking panel.”

“You know I didn’t,” Lucifer replies, brushing Sam’s hair back off his forehead. 

They stay in the warehouse. Lucifer replaces the roof panels with stiff, sluggish movements, and he assures Sam that he will know if Michael is getting closer. Sam prowls around the edges, running his fingers along the walls and glancing up at the high windows that remain stubbornly dark. The only door is locked, but Sam tries it three times anyway.

Lucifer stays in the center of the huge, empty space, and watches Sam. His breathing is slow and labored, and the wing that was wounded hangs at an awkward angle.

“What did Hell look like after you tempted Eve?” Sam asks, picking at a flaking bit of rust and not turning to look at Lucifer.

“It looked more like everyone describes it. Until I gave Eve knowledge and the freedom to use it, no one sinned, so there was no need for a Hell built to hold more than me.”

“So you made it all fire and brimstone, then?”

“No,“ Lucifer answers simply. “I can’t create anything. My father made it for me.” He sighs, and Sam turns to face him. 

Lucifer is sitting on the floor of the warehouse, his arms resting on his knees in front of him. He looks at Sam, then stares straight ahead as he continues. “I loved my father so much that I wanted to be like him. What son doesn’t want to be like their father when they’re young? He was my hero and I wanted a kingdom just like his, but instead he told me, told us all that we had to bow before his new creation.” Sam frowns at that, but moves closer. “So I refused to bow, and he and Michael cast me out. I was so angry, I couldn’t stand the idea that his new children lived in ignorance of how my father treated the ones he professed to love, so I gave them knowledge. In return, my father gave me a kingdom. A mockery of my love for him, filled with the souls of the disobedient and wicked, a constant reminder of how my father saw my love for him.” Sam crouches down and Lucifer turns his head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wet and shining. “Hell is hell for me, too, Sam. My father didn’t send me here as a reward. It’s a punishment for me, just like it is for all of you.”

Sam reaches out and covers one of Lucifer’s hands with him own. Lucifer squeezes his eyes shut, one tear rolling down his cheek as Sam reels beside him, falling onto one knee to steady himself as the weight of Lucifer’s loss and shame presses down on his heart like a vice. Sam pushes back against him with emotions of his own, trying to soothe the pain he feels flowing through Lucifer.

“No one’s ever told your story that way before,” Sam says, and Lucifer opens his eyes again, rubbing at them with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t normally have an audience interested in hearing it,” Lucifer replies. He lays his other hand over Sam’s and looks at him. “Thank you.” 

Something warm and lingering flares through Lucifer’s anger like sunshine burning off wrung-out storm clouds. Sam smiles at him and nods, surprised when Lucifer manages a weak smile in return.

Sam coughs once, then again. He covers his hand with his mouth as the attack becomes more and more violent. When he looks down at his palm it’s filled with blood and shards of glass.

“Lucifer, help,” he chokes out, and then Lucifer is there, with his hands on Sam’s face, on his chest and throat, trying to stop the wet, sucking coughs that have Sam on his hands and knees, spitting blood and glass out onto the floor. “Oh, god it hurts. Please.” Sam looks up at Lucifer, his face a ruin of pain and terror, and Lucifer does the only thing he can think of.

He cups Sam’s face in his hands and kisses him. It’s not passionate, but it’s solid, and when Sam wrenches his head from Lucifer’s grasp he sees the angel double over in pain, his wings shuddering and twitching as he gives a deep, inhuman growl.  
Sam runs, and this time when he gets to the door it’s unlocked.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam doesn't know how long he's been walking when Lucifer finally finds him. It’s a deserted stretch of winding two-lane mountain road with trees looming on either side. The pavement’s wet but he doesn’t remember it raining, despite the thick clouds overhead, blocking out the moon and stars. He’s passed houses but every one has been deserted and empty. He’s hungry, lost, and exhausted. His legs ache and there is still a wheezing when he breathes deeply. When Lucifer appears before him with wings spread, the streetlight behind him looks like a halo, and Sam drops to his knees.

Lucifer’s clothes are filthy and the front of his t-shirt is caked with blood when he kneels down in front of Sam. His hands are cold and calloused when they skim over Sam’s face, his head and body, checking for injuries. Lucifer is frantic, and Sam is shocked by the panic he feels in the touches.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere when you ran. I thought Michael had finally-“

Sam shakes his head and chokes back a sob, lets himself be pulled into Lucifer’s embrace. He feels Lucifer’s hands under the hem of his t-shirt and moans as waves of relief and joy wash over him.

“You kissed me,” Sam mumbles into the fabric of Lucifer’s shirt.

“I had to get it out of you, and that was the fastest way to do it,” Lucifer replies, his voice rumbling up through his body, though it’s soft in Sam’s ear.

“Was that the only reason you kissed me?” There is a smirk in Sam’s voice, and he feels Lucifer’s embarrassment and uncertainty flush over him like a fever. He relaxes, and doesn’t push back, but lets Lucifer in, and feels the angel calm down.  
Sam shifts his head against Lucifer’s shoulder and looks over his back at his wings. “Why haven’t you healed?” he asks, bringing a hand tentatively up towards the ugly, scabbed line along the muscle of his left wing.

Lucifer draws back and pulls them both to their feet. “I can’t. Not like I could up there, anyway. Part of the punishment, though I didn’t know that until now.”

“What do you mean, until now? You were never injured here before?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “No one’s ever tried. This is my cage, in - for better or for worse - my kingdom, but now that you’re here, my torture is seeing you taken from me time and time again. You are half of me, and I feel it every time Michael hurts you. Every time he destroys you, he destroys a piece of me, too.”

Sam steps forward and plucks at the hem of Lucifer’s ruined t-shirt. Lucifer tries to back away but Sam grabs his wrist with his other hand. He lifts the t-shirt and gapes at the shiny, pink scar running all the way around Lucifer’s body. There are burn scars, broken blisters, and rows of cuts Sam doesn’t even recognize.

Lucifer looks down at their feet, avoiding Sam’s eyes. “It was easier if only one of us was in pain.”

Sam ducks down to look into Lucifer’s eyes, making him raise his head. Sam’s brows are knit with concern. “You took all that for me?” Lucifer nods dumbly. “And that last time? The glass?”

“Just be glad you ran. It wasn’t the prettiest you’ve ever seen me, kiddo.”

This time it’s Sam that kisses him, though it’s still about taking pain away. Lucifer sways under the contact, and Sam wraps a hand around the nape of his neck. It’s soft and real and Sam’s not sure if he’s giving or receiving the warmth that’s pulsing through him now. He smiles against Lucifer’s lips, laughing quietly as he breaks the kiss. Lucifer looks at him, confused.

“Is it possible to be happy in hell?” Sam asks. Lucifer’s expression turns serious, and he shakes his head.

“No, Sam, it’s not.”

There is no scream this time, no violent attack. Sam is just suddenly gone, and Lucifer feels it like a phantom limb: He won’t find Sam this time, no matter how long he looks.

Michael is standing some distance away, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Where did he go?” Lucifer asks, his voice broken and quiet.

“Dean made a deal with Death to get him out of here,” Michael replies. He gestures to himself. “He left Adam, though.”

“How do you know about this deal?” Lucifer tilts his head, squinting at his brother.

“Death came to me for help getting Sam’s soul back from you. He should be back in his body now, with all his memories of being tortured.” 

“No,” Lucifer sighs.

“By you,” Michael adds, and the sound that escaped Lucifer is a pinched, strangled sob. “He’ll never say yes to you again, brother.”

Michael moves towards his brother but Lucifer staggers back away from him, hands raised in front of him.

“Don’t you see, Lucifer? I stopped the Apocalypse without killing you.” There is sympathy and triumph in Michael’s voice. “I think Father would be proud.”

Michael snaps his fingers and all of Lucifer’s wounds are healed, his scars erased, and he is completely alone in the darkness again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [diemarysues](http://diemarysues.tumblr.com) for the help and read over!


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